These Times
by darkestdawn3
Summary: Bruce Wayne teaches Dick Grayson that bad things don't have to define you.


This wasn't supposed to happen. Horrible things just _didn't _happen to sweet little children. A 9 year old watching his parents fall to their deaths just wasn't right.

Where had the night gone wrong? This question had gone through his scattered brain every moment his mind allowed him to think about what happened. When he saw his mother's beautiful face, twisted with horror, screaming with fear, and then his father's, so shocked and frozen, he could feel nothing but sadness and guilt and dread. Had it really happened? He wondered constantly and wished so terribly that it was just a nightmare. He'd will himself to wake up and then he could run into his parent's room on the train to hug them. His mother would kiss away his tears and his father would hold him to his chest, allowing the young boy to hear the strong heartbeat. Yeah, it would be just like any other time he had a nightmare.

But… this time was different. This time was_ real._ There was no soft touch from his mother or a goofy smile from his father. There was no train, no circus. There was no large Grayson family anymore. There was just Dick, and he felt so alone.

Dick hadn't spoken much since the accident. After he had made it down from the platform, he dropped to his knees and sobbed over his lifeless family. The people in the crowd were whispering with shock and sympathy, but Dick could hear nothing – nothing but the screams that had echoed only moments before. He had watched with wide eyes as his parents fell to the ground, unable to do anything to save them. Why? _Why? _

It had felt like hours before everyone stopped trying to pull him away. The crowds were being rushed out of the tent and soon it felt as if Dick was the only living thing in the world. How could this happen to him? He had been a good boy; he had brushed his teeth every night, ate his vegetables, and had helped his family whenever he could. He obeyed rules. He never ran off to explore the various cities they stopped in. So why was he being punished? Why had his family been taken away from him?

When his cries had become silent shakes of his body, Dick began to sense another presence in the tent. Mr. Haly had disappeared some time ago, more than likely staying outside until he was sure Dick was stable enough to not put up a fight when they tried – _again – _to take the lifeless bodies of the Grayson's away. Of course, his uncle had been dragged away long ago, barely still alive, but his parents weren't so lucky.

Dick's breath came out in wild gasps and the tears still blurred his vision, but the feeling of being watched was finally bothering the young boy. He looked up, still holding onto both his mother and father's limp hands tightly, and spotted a tall figure standing only a mere feet away. What he could see through his tears and from what he could actually _focus _on, the man had dark hair and broad shoulders, and he had his hands stuffed into the pockets of his fancy looking suit. He couldn't really make out the face, but he was sure that he had never seen this man before. It made him cry even harder.

The boy's sudden reaction to his presence made the figure step closer until he was fully visible, but Dick could see nothing through his tightly shut eyes. The man watched the boy with empathy; he wanted nothing more than to help this poor child.

"Richard Grayson?" the man asked in a calm voice. He knew the kid _was _Richard Grayson, but he still sounded unsure of himself. The boy let out another strangled sob at the sound of his name. "Richard, I want to speak with you."

There was something about this strange voice… it sounded so soft. For a moment, it drowned out the screams that seemed to play like a broken record in his head. Dick's body shuddered with another sob, but he stayed silent this time, only allowing his harsh gasps for air to be heard. He tried to open his eyes, but they started to burn from the salty tears. He wanted to rub his fists over them, yet that would mean letting go of his parents, and he just couldn't do that.

"When you're ready," the calm voice spoke again.

Dick wasn't sure if he wanted to hear what this man had to say, but crying in front of a stranger was something no 9 year old wanted to do. He tried his best to calm down enough to finally stare at the man with wide, watery bright blue eyes. He noticed that the face looked emotionless, but the eyes – there was something in the eyes that made him feel as if this man could _feel _his pain.

"My name is Bruce Wayne," he started lowly. The back of Dick's brain vaguely reminded him that he had heard this name at the beginning of the show. He was the sponsor or something of the sort. It made him choke a little more. "I want you to know that I'll do whatever it takes to help you."

Dick sniffed roughly and shut his eyes tight, trying to rid himself of cooling tears. This man – Bruce Wayne – was saying that he'd help him. Why? Who was he to him, and vice versa? Dick had never seen him before in his life.

When he opened his eyes, the blank face of the man confused him. He stared at Mr. Wayne for a moment longer, his frown deepening as new tears started to slowly release without his consult, and then he tore his gaze away to stare down at the once-warm hands he was holding. He didn't care about this stranger and he wished he'd leave him alone. What could he possibly do to help him, anyway?

Dick allowed his thick black hair to fall forward, blocking most of his tilted face from view. Bruce understand that this boy didn't comprehend what he was saying, so he decided just to leave him to mourn over his loss while he still could. He'd make sure John and Mary, and the rest of the fallen Grayson's, got a proper burial in Gotham. He'd see young Richard soon.

Haly's circus had left Gotham two days after the tragic Grayson incident. Jack Haly wanted to stay longer, Richard was like a grandson to him after all, but he had a schedule to keep and they were already behind. He was horribly amazed by how easily something terrible could happen. Within seconds, his top act had been diminished, and, just like that, Richard had become an orphan. Life was unfair and cruel.

Richard had said goodbye to Haly and the circus. He had tried to hide out in his family's trailer, but Haly had found him and, sadly, told him that a policeman needed to take him to the station. He had been kind enough to let Dick stay with his second family on that horrible night, but he had come back for him the next day, answering Dick's broken question of _'why can't I stay?'_ with an equally broken answer.

"_You have no permanent residence …"_

Dick had asked the nice mustached man what that meant, and Officer Gordon regretted to tell him that he would be transferred to an orphanage. Richard knew what that was, but he hadn't fully comprehended it. At least, not enough to panic. Instead, the young boy quietly asked Gordon if he could spend the night at the hospital with his uncle. Gordon had been reluctant; his uncle was paralyzed and comatose, but the look on that poor child's face told him that he could at least allow him this wish. He agreed, but sternly reminded him that he would be at the hospital at 10 am to take him to his family's funeral. He had mentioned that a Bruce Wayne was paying for everything. Dick remembered the words of the calm man that had briefly spoken to him the night before. He understood that this was a nice gesture, but it didn't make him feel any better.

Dick had spent the night curled up in a chair beside his broken uncle. He had taken the limp hand, had listened to the faint beep of the monitors that indicated that his heart was still beating, and he had spoken to him. His whispers turned to silent cries just as he had fallen asleep, not letting go of his uncle's hand until a nurse woke him early the next morning. The tall woman announced that a bag had been dropped off for him at the front desk only moments ago.

Reluctantly, Dick had allowed his uncle's hand to slip from his and then he trudged tiredly out into the too-bright hallway. There were doctors and nurses moving around, but there wasn't much activity otherwise. Dick spotted a box-like area that was headed by a woman behind what looked like glass and he made his way over. The woman was confused by his lone presence, but when the boy told her his name; her confusion cleared and was replaced with sympathy. Her eyes didn't hold the same meaning like Bruce Wayne's. The lady _pretended _to feel his pain. Mr. Wayne looked as if he had lost his family that night, too.

There was a small bag and a black garment sack for him. The bag contained some of his items from the circus, like his yellow toothbrush and his red comb, and a pair of blue underwear and white socks. Dick had more than just this, however, and he wondered where his possessions were. What happened to his too-big shirts, his favorite baard game, and his old teddy bear? Where was his performance costume?

Where was his life?

The garment bag held a very new, very small suit. When Dick slipped it on, it was still too big for his lithe frame, but it was wearable, almost like his favorite red shirt. The thought etched his frown a little deeper. He didn't want to go to his parent's funeral. He didn't want to have to face that _again_. He didn't want to _cry_ anymore.

He felt so selfish thinking these thoughts.

Gordon had come a few minutes before the time he had told Dick yesterday, keeping silent as he eyed the small child in a suit that was a little too large. He briefly wondered where he had gotten it, but then he remembered that Bruce Wayne was paying for this funeral and he was the likeliest candidate to make sure the boy had something to wear.

It wasn't much of a funeral, more like just a burial, and Dick was quietly thankful that there were only a handful of people standing around the newly dug graves. Gordon stayed a few feet behind Richard, flanked by his officers, and even farther behind stood Bruce Wayne and his butler. The child wished that his circus family could be here, that his _real_ family wasn't down in the ground with their names on small markers that stuck into the dirt. He wished that this had all beenjust one big nightmare.

Richard had stood in front of the spots where his mother and father now rested for what felt like hours. Gordon had mumbled something about how he was very sorry, but he needed to get back to the station, which meant that he would have to take him to the orphanage now. He didn't actually say the O word because he knew it would sound so horrible, but taking him to the _place _didn't sound any better and he wanted to apologize again just for saying it. Dick slowly nodded his head in idle understanding anyway, but he made no moves; he just stayed still.

Gordon wasn't impatient with this child, but after another 5 minutes of nothing, he opened his mouth to speak again. This time, however, a voice sounded from behind.

"Jim Gordon."

Jim turned around. He squinted despite the lack of sun in the dull, cloudy gray sky. In front of him stood the famous –or infamous, if you read the tabloids – Bruce Wayne. He gave the tall, handsome man a small tug of his thin lips. He wanted to tell Wayne that it was very generous to pay for the Grayson family's burial, but the silent child was still only a few feet away. He settled for a casual greeting instead.

"Nice to see you again, Mr. Wayne."

A smile ghosted Wayne's lips, but his eyes strayed to the boy behind Gordon. "Do you mind if I speak with him for a moment?"

Gordon turned out of reflex to eye the child behind him before facing Wayne again, confusion on his face. "Uh, sure," he complied anyway, and then he awkwardly shuffled towards his fellow officers that stood in the distance.

With a slight sigh, Bruce Wayne took a few steps towards the boy until he was standing directly behind him. A bit hesitant, he placed a hand on the slumped shoulder. He didn't move.

"Richard," he spoke softly. "I'm –"

"You're Bruce Wayne," a monotone voice said in almost a whisper. "You talked to me two days ago when –" The boy almost choked on his unspoken words. He swallowed. "And you're… sorry. I know."

Bruce added a little more pressure to the hand that rested on the boy's shoulder. He felt it tense slightly, but after a moment of silence, the act had the desired effect. The boy slowly turned his head to look up at the man behind him, strands of his messy black hair falling onto his forehead. Dick's voice had been void of any emotion, but his eyes were the exact opposite. He could see all the pain and fear and hurt swirling in those blue orbs. He remembered that look. It had been mirrored in him so many years ago.

Bruce kneeled down to the child's eyelevel, using the hand on the small shoulder to carefully turn the boy to face him fully. Dick stared at the man's smooth features with too many mixed emotions, one of them being confusion.

"I know that this is a… very hard time for you, Richard," Bruce began. He wasn't exactly the best with expressing emotion, especially not with people he had no connections with, but Alfred had given him guidance beforehand.

Lost in his thoughts for a moment, Bruce didn't notice the way Richard had twisted up his face or that his eyes had suddenly glazed over. Not until the boy spoke, that is.

"You _don't_ know," he said softly, but the frustration and exasperation was clear in his voice. "Everyone keeps saying that. It's s'posed to be nice and everything, but it doesn't make me feel better. It…" His eyes focused on his shoes. "It doesn't bring them back."

The expression on Bruce's face tightened along with his hand. "When I was around your age, I lost my parents, too," he said very quietly, keeping his eyes on the child's face. "I felt alone and… afraid." Richard slowly looked back up at Bruce. "The only person I had left was my butler. For a long time I felt like it didn't change anything, but now I realize how much worse I could've been without someone to look after me the way Alfred did. He wasn't my father and he didn't pretend to be, but he cared."

Dick watched the man talk softly to him, studied the way honesty shown in his eyes, the way they seemed to _know _just what to say and feel.

"You may feel like this is your fault. You have to understand that it isn't. I spent a lot of my time trying to figure out what I could've done to save them, but each time, I came up short for a reason. You deserve someone to be there for you, just like I had."

Dick eyed the man with tiredness taking over for his anger. He felt Mr. Wayne's hand slide down from his shoulder to grasp his thin arm carefully. His light eyes connected with dark ones.

"I know Officer Gordon is going to take you to the orphanage here in Gotham and I can't stop that for now, but I can make you an offer."

Dick furrowed his thin eyebrows and studied the man through his drying eyes. An offer? What kind of an adult made an offer with a child? Dick's curiosity began to stir through his numbness.

"I have a lot of room at my place with just me and Alfred. If you choose, you can stay with me."

Dick tried to understand what the man was telling him. He was going to an orphanage, but Bruce Wayne was offering him the choice to stay at his house. He had heard of things like this before and it was called adoption. Was that what Mr. Wayne meant? Or did he mean just for a few days, like he had seen kids do on TV. Dick wasn't sure that he wanted to be adopted. He had a father and his name was John Grayson, but he was no longer here. Then again, an orphanage didn't sound so great, either.

A slight squeeze of his arm made his eyes meet Mr. Wayne's again.

"It's your decision, Richard. Think about it."

Mr. Wayne allowed his hand to slip off of Dick's arm as he began to stand. The boy watched him with a new fear bubbling inside his chest. Mr. Wayne was nice, as far as he could tell, and he didn't want him to leave. He didn't want to be alone again.

"You want me to stay with you?" he blurted out before Bruce could turn away. "_Why?_"

Yes, _why_ was definitely the question. Perhaps Bruce Wayne felt guilty. He had watched a family fall to their end and, like his own parents' death, he could do nothing about. The man saw the boy he used to be inside of Richard Grayson. He wanted to make sure that he didn't grow up alone. He wanted to make sure that this innocent child healed properly.

"I know what you're going through," was the simple sentence that Bruce spoke to Richard.

"But… you don't know me, and I don't know you!" he blurted suddenly. "My – my parents told me to not talk to strangers…"

Bruce could not feel more for the child than he already did. Taking a step closer, but remaining upright, he slid his hands casually into his pockets, assessing the behavior of the small boy in front of him; he was confused and scared and hurt.

"Your parents were right. I want to help you, Richard, but I realize I have to gain your trust first. That's why I'm offering you a place in my home."

Though still confused, Dick was beginning to think a little more clearly. No matter how many times he insisted otherwise, he still _was _a child and he needed someone to take care of him. This tall man in front of him, though somewhat intimidating, had eyes that told him he understood and would do anything to help him, even take him home. Dick knew that he wasn't an animal; Mr. Wayne couldn't just take him anywhere he wanted. He didn't _belong_ to him. He didn't belong to anyone, not anymore.

But maybe… maybe it wouldn't be so bad, following this man. His family was gone, Papa Haly and his circus pals were gone, and the only option Dick had left was to be placed into an orphanage. But now Mr. Wayne was offering him an alternative.

"Like I said, think about it." Bruce's voice gained back Richard's attention.

Dick's frazzled mind reassured him that he would. He nodded slowly for Mr. Wayne to see. The man gave him another soft look before turning away, nodding at a watchful Gordon as he passed. Dick could see an older man in the distance, observing everything as well.

He watched Mr. Wayne and his butler leave before Gordon helped him into the car. Richard pressed his face against the window and gazed at the cemetery as they passed with the feeling of emptiness taking over every inch of him.

He had been assigned a room with another boy at the rundown building. His roommate was older and flighty, and he didn't want to stay in bed when the adults told them to turn out the lights. Richard hadn't spoken to anyone since arriving, thoroughly dousing his hope for friendship when he arrived. He didn't want to play with that tall kid, anyway. He had already decided that he didn't want to stay in this dark place. He had hoped, quite childishly, that everything would be okay once he was placed in a place full of other kids just like him. He had never really had any friends before, none besides the older people in the circus that he counted as family. Then he arrived and he realized how much he would dislike this place.

The inside was mostly grays and browns and other dark colors, and it was nothing like the brightness of the circus. The pajamas they supplied him with were stiff and a little oversized, and they were a faded blue color that maybe wasn't so bad, but he didn't want to like anything here. In fact, he didn't even like the bed, and that meant a lot considering he had slept in a chair at the hospital the night before.

One morning rose, Dick was rudely awakened by the older boy that he had to share a room with. The boy was yelling about something. One of the toys he liked was broken? Bid deal, Dick wanted to yell. He wanted to sleep. He had been dreaming about his parents and the time they went to a zoo when they stopped in Europe. It was fun and he was allowed to eat a big ice cream cone. Now that he was awake, the happiness from the dream once again disappeared, and he felt that overwhelming emptiness begin to return.

The woman that was trying to settle the boy down announced that it was time for breakfast. Richard followed her out, still in his pajamas, and entered the kitchen. There were two small, round tables placed at the end of the room. Smaller children were already seated, picking at their meals and watching cartoons. A baby in a highchair started wailing and it hurt his ears.

Richard tried to follow the boy into the adjoining room, but he was stopped and the tall boy eyed him curiously.

"The dining room's for big kids only," he announced in a loud voice.

Richard stared up at him with wide eyes. "I'm a big kid, too," he tried, but his voice was too soft and it sounded hoarse. The boy laughed.

"Nuh-uh, you're still a baby. You sit at the baby table with the other _babies_."

"I'm not a baby!" Richard snapped. He was surprised by how fierce he suddenly sounded. He couldn't be a baby anymore, not when he had to take care of himself. "I'm nine!"

"I'm twelve!" the boy shouted back. Before he could say anything more, however, another woman intervened.

"Now, boys, you better behave yourselves. Come on, Richard, your oatmeal is over here…"

She steered the young boy to one of the tables at the end of the room. Usually he liked oatmeal, but this kind looked sloppy and gray. It wasn't cinnamon flavored, either.

With too many unusual emotions, Dick picked at his food and glanced at the flashing TV screen. Many of the kids from the dining room were shouting, but the ones around the table he sat, minus a few babies crying, stayed relatively silent. He wondered how long these other kids had been here.

The lady that had woken him up produced an outfit for him to wear. This one fit a little better, but it smelled funny and the pant legs were too long. After spending some time isolated in the dark room, she had returned, only to usher him out into the "play room." The mean roommate didn't offer to play with him and neither did any of the other kids. Most of them were broken off into groups by age, playing with toys that were appropriate to him. Dick remembered the few toys he had and he missed them already.

He sat in a corner with a picture book that disinterested him and watched the other kids move about. None of them really looked happy, but they didn't look as if they felt as miserable as him. Would it go away then, if he stayed here? Would the pain go away? Or maybe the feeling of numbness that he had felt and didn't know how to describe would return permanently, and then he would be oblivious just likes the other orphans.

Richard thought about his parents for a while, but when he felt his nose begin to tingle, he did his best to steer his thoughts to something else. When they landed on Bruce Wayne, they froze. The man had said that Dick could stay with him, told him to think about it. Well, he had, and he decided that anything would be better than this. Could he ask one of the adults to call a man named Bruce Wayne? He didn't have his phone number…

Before he knew it, he was being steered back into the kitchen with a sandwich being placed in front of him. He had only eaten about half of it when he heard his name being called.

Richard turned in his seat to see a thin, balding man standing in the doorway.

"You have a visitor."

Had Haly come back? He wondered almost excitedly, but then he realized how unlikely that was. The circus was scheduled to visit somewhere on the west coast, he thought he had heard them say. They were too far away. As he stood and shuffled his way forward, he decided that it was probably that nice mustached policeman, Gordon. He liked him, but he really didn't want to answer any more questions about his parents and some guy he had seen and heard that night.

The thin man led the boy to the entrance and that's when Richard recognized the familiar figure. Bruce Wayne had come to visit him.

The thin man hesitated for a moment before deciding that Mr. Wayne could be left alone with the child, and then he disappeared. Bruce noticed that Richard's demeanor was calmer than the previous day, but that was probably because he was confused on all the things that were happening so fast. He wondered if his offer had added to the stress that a 9 year old should not be under anyway.

Bruce knew better than to ask how the kid was doing, so he settled on asking how his night went. That is, he would have if Richard hadn't beaten him to speaking first.

"Are you sure it's okay if I stay with you?"

The boy's questioned momentarily shocked the man that was usually ready for anything. He hadn't though the child would be so easy to convince.

"It's my house. If I say you can stay, you can," he replied calmly. The boy still looked a little nervous. "You've decided?"

Dick sighed. "I don't know you very much, Mr. Wayne, but you aren't like the other people, and I don't want to stay here. So I guess… if you _really_ think it's okay… I'll stay with you."

Of course Bruce thought it was okay – he wouldn't have offered if he didn't, but he was slightly relieved that Richard had decided to come with him. He wanted to help this boy get better. He wanted to show him things really _did _get better if you allowed for it. He wanted to make sure that Dick's parents got justice for what he _knew _was murder. As Batman, he was tracking Zucco. As Bruce Wayne, he would help this child. It just seemed like the right thing to do and, reluctantly, Alfred had agreed.

"Alright," Bruce said finally. "If you're ready, we can go."

Richard was surprised by how easy it was. He had grabbed the bag from the hospital and followed Mr. Wayne out the door and into a very shiny car. He got to sit up front in the passenger's seat and was very tempted to try out the few buttons on the sleek dashboard, but decided it was best to remain still. Mr. Wayne hadn't said anything during the car ride that turned out to be quite long and even though Dick wanted to, he remained silent and observant.

They had stopped by the police station to pick up the things Haly had left for Dick. They were packed in bright, old suitcases that he and his father had decorated with postcards from their various travels. There were three of them plus another small duffel bag. While Mr. Wayne placed them into his car, he wondered where his parents' belonging were.

When the car rolled to a stop in front of a house that, to Richard, looked gigantic, he couldn't help but stare with wide eyes. He had never seen a place so big. The tents they performed in looked like regular camping tents compared to this place.

"You _live _here?" he asked in awe. Bruce turned to look at the boy before opening his door and sliding the keys into his coat pocket.

Following his lead, Richard slipped out and jointed Bruce at the back of the car to retrieve his things. Mr. Wayne allowed him to carry the lightest colorful suitcase while he led him to the front of the manor. Richard took in the outside with silent interest.

The door looked very large, but it soon disappeared when they reached the top step. Standing in its place was a tall and thin older man that held his head high, was wearing fancy looking clothes, and kept his hands behind his back. After a moment of observing the two in front of him, he reached out to take two suitcases from Bruce, leaving him with the two duffel bags. Dick clutched on to his case tightly.

"Master Wayne," he greeted formally with a slight accent that Richard recognized to be British from the time the circus had spent in England. The man then looked down at Dick and, despite the proper look to him, had a soft twinkle in his eyes. "Master Richard," he then said, and it confused Dick. Master? "Welcome home."

Bruce glanced down at the small boy as Alfred allowed them to enter, noting the way his expression was changing. He deduced that Richard just wasn't quite sure what to make of this.

"My name is Alfred," the butler introduced as he managed to take the suitcase away from Dick. He also took the duffel bags from Bruce. "It's a pleasure to meet you, young sir."

Richard thought that Alfred spoke kind of funny, but he seemed very nice. The boy even offered the older man a small smile. It was enough for Alfred. Bruce watched him disappear up the stairs, leaving him alone with Dick again. He figured that it'd be best to give him a basic tour of the place, even though he would probably have to do it again soon. The layout could be a little confusing to newcomers, especially a child.

Dick followed the man when he began to walk again, allowing him to see some of the downstairs rooms, like the sitting room and the entertainment room, the downstairs bathroom, and the kitchen and dining room. Bruce told him that his study was down here also, but he didn't open the door for him to see.

"I bet this place could fit ten circuses!" he said in an awed whisper as they moved up the large staircase. Bruce remained silent.

He showed him the two bathrooms upstairs that were located down opposite hallways. Bruce led them to a halt and placed his hand on a door, gently pushing it open. He stepped inside, knowing that Dick would do the same. The boy did and his eyes immediately settled on the suitcases on his bed. He looked to Bruce.

"This will be your room," he told the boy. "My room is right across the hallway." He took a step back and pointed to a door that was diagonal from the room they were in. "Alfred's is at the far end."

Dick gave a nod.

Bruce waited a beat before speaking again. "I'll leave you to get your things situated. Alfred's fixing dinner early and will call you down when it's ready."

Again, Dick nodded.

Bruce let his eyes linger on Richard for a moment longer and then he turned to slip out of the room, ready to shut the door behind him. Dick's voice made him pause.

"Are… do you eat with Alfred?"

Bruce glanced at him from over his shoulder. He wasn't quite sure what to tell him. He wasn't always home when Alfred fixed dinner, but the look on the boy's face told him that the answer he wanted was a 'yes.'

"If I'm home and Alfred feels like joining me, then yes."

Dick pressed his lips together tightly. This place was big and lonely, what with only two – now three – people in it. He didn't want to eat alone.

"I always eat with my mom and dad. He says that it's good to spend time together…" Dick offered quietly, staring over at his suitcases that sat on top of his new bed. "Today, this kid said I couldn't eat with them in the dining room because it was for big kids only and I'm not a big kid."

Bruce had forgotten how he acted as a child, but he understood that they never wanted to be thought of as little.

"Sometimes you just have to do things you don't like," he replied almost as quietly.

"Do I get to sit at that big table with you and Alfred, Mr. Wayne?"

Through the sadness still in his eyes, Bruce could see a bit of hope shine through. He had planned on going down to the cave, it was going to get dark soon after all, but if sitting down with this kid was going to make him happy, then he'd do it.

"If you want to."

Dick looked up at Mr. Wayne with a tilted head, a curious look overtaking his face, but he didn't express whatever he was thinking with words.

"Get your things unpacked and come down when Alfred calls."

Dick gave Bruce a nod before he slipped out of the rather large room. He took a moment to observe his surroundings. The walls were tan and the floor was hard wood. The curtains were thick and pulled back to allow some of the dim gray light to come through. There was a long dresser against the left wall, a closet with double doors against the right, and a full sized bed with a nightstand, a lamp, and a clock in the middle. Other than that, the room was pretty bare. Dick thought of his family's trailer and all the colorful things inside. It was pretty cramped with an open space housed their couch, mini refrigerator, and TV, and two smaller rooms to sleep in, but the train was always up for exploration as long as he stayed safe. Was he expected to stay in his room at all times in this big place, only coming out for meals or to use the restroom?

He opened the first suitcase and stared inside, his lips pulling into a small, sad smile. There was his favorite t-shirt on top and his old teddy bear right next to it. He clicked open the next suitcase and stared inside. His costume was there, red and gray and yellow as always, but it looked so different. He almost wished that it wasn't there, that it didn't exist.

His fingertips brushed against the familiar fabric and, just for that second, he allowed himself to think about the last time he had worn the uniform. He had watched his parents die. Before that, he had always been happy wearing that performance piece. He had felt so free and alive up on that trapeze with his parents. Looking at the suit now, he just wanted to lock it away somewhere.

He pulled everything but the circus outfit from the case and closed it back up, shoving it underneath the bed. From the other two cases and the bags, he pulled everything out and proceeded to shove things into the drawers. He wasn't sure where he should put the two picture frames. One was of him and his parents, he on his father's shoulders with his mother by their side. The other was of his whole circus family, the Flying Grayson's in front, clad in their matching uniforms. Everyone was smiling.

Dick carefully placed them on the dresser, side-by-side, angled just so he was able to see them from the bed. His starry nightlight was also placed on top of the dresser, but he left it unplugged.

The bed he was hesitantly sitting on the edge of was nice and soft. He held his bear in his lap and stared down at it, picking at the matted fur. He was too old to sleep with a stuffed animal, he had told himself before, but after everything that had happened, spending two nights without the bear made him feel even worse. He's at least keep the thing on the bed. After all, it belonged to his mother. It was his favorite toy, but he would give it back to her in a heartbeat if it meant that she would stay.

Dick sat there for what felt like hours, but really it had only been twenty-three minutes before Alfred had knocked on his door saying, "Master Richard, dinner is served." He was glad that the man waited for him by the door; he didn't think he'd be able to find the dining room.

"Umm… Alfred?" Dick asked as they made their way down the stairs. Alfred didn't turn.

"Yes, Master Richard?"

"Why do you call Mr. Wayne _master_? And why me, too?"

"Well, Master Richard, Master Bruce is a Wayne and this is his manor. I am his butler."

"Does that mean he owns you? Does he own me now, too?"

Dick wasn't quite sure what answer he wanted to hear.

Alfred smiled wryly, but Dick couldn't see from where he lagged behind. "We are people in this household, young Master Richard, not objects." Alfred wanted to explain to the lad that Bruce was very kind when he wanted to be and that he never treated Alfred with disrespect. In fact, Bruce often saw Alfred as _his _father figure. It wasn't his place to reveal personal information about Bruce, though. "He makes the rules that we must follow."

"So, he's kind of like Mr. Haly? He was the ringleader at the circus. Or my dad? Or maybe my mom 'cause she usually made the rules and dad backed her up." Dick gave a soft laugh at the memory, but it died down almost as quickly as it came. Alfred discreetly eyed the young boy that had caught up to him as they turned a corner.

Alfred pushed open the doors to the dining room and Dick stepped in. The table was large and surrounded by chairs, but there was no one in sight. He furrowed his eyebrows. Where was Mr. Wayne?

"Master Bruce will arrive in a few short moments, I'm sure. He had some… business to attend to."

"Oh, okay," Dick replied quietly and he allowed himself to plop down onto the chair that Alfred had pulled back for him. The plate in front of him held mashed potatoes and meatloaf, and it smelled delicious. His stomach was already growling with hunger.

Should he wait for Mr. Wayne? He sat there for a few moments while Alfred stood to the side, watching him without detection. Dick had decided that his stomach couldn't wait any longer and he dug in. he was hungrier than he had expected, the sandwich at the orphanage during lunchtime was nothing. He was about halfway through when Bruce strolled in.

Dick could see him sit down in front of his own plate. From the corner of his eye he watched as Bruce placed a napkin in his lap, grabbed his fork, and started to gently poke at his food. After swallowing a forkful of potatoes, he latched his eyes onto the man's blank face.

Bruce glanced at him, too, but Dick said nothing. He just continued to observe. Was he expecting him to speak? He supposed it _was _the proper thing to do at dinner. Alfred usually coaxed him into saying a few sentences when they sat down together every now and then. What did people talk about during dinner? He tried to remember what his parents would ask him whenever they ate together. They liked to talk about school and work and how their days had went. Was Dick going to school? He knew the boy probably thought his act in the circus was his job. Bruce didn't need to ask about his day. He didn't really want to.

"Are you settled?"

Dick eyed him for a moment longer before deciding to nod. "I've been unpacked for a long time."

Bruce raised an eyebrow. "Did you explore?"

Richard shook his head. "You told me to wait for Alfred to call, so I sat down. It felt like a long time, but I think it was twenty minutes."

The kid could tell time? He knew how to count? Bruce knew he shouldn't be shocked – Dick was 9 after all and probably in third grade. He just looked so… small.

"Why didn't you come down?" Bruce began to chew on some meat. Dick watched carefully and shrugged. "This place is free range. You don't have to stay in your room. All I ask is that you try not to break anything and that you stay away from my study."

His words seemed to perk the child up. "You mean… I can go and watch shows on that big TV you have?"

Bruce nodded and swallowed some potatoes. "Just ask Alfred if you need help with anything." Dick didn't like asking for help, but he decided to agree anyway. Alfred didn't seem so bad at all. "I'm assuming you were homeschooled."

"Yeah. My mom and dad taught me, even Mr. Haly sometimes. They always said I couldn't perform until I had my school stuff done."

Bruce was never one for many words, especially when it was a child he was supposed to converse with. He opted to observe the child instead.

The kid was shifting every few minutes, trying to get comfortable in the small chair. He chewed with his mouth closed, kept quiet, and sat with his head down. Everything about his demeanor told Bruce just how uncomfortable he was. Something strange and foreign inside of him began to twitch and he was almost tempted to offer some comforting words, but the memory of all those vague condolences long ago didn't settle with him. A few words wouldn't help this boy, either. Besides, he needed to get down to the cave.

Bruce wiped his mouth with a burgundy colored napkin and pushed his chair back. The slight noise caused Dick to tilt his head up.

"I have some business to attend to," he told the boy.

"Are you leaving?" His nerves were more than visible.

"You'll be fine. Alfred's here if you need anything."

Dick watched as the tall man stood and began to turn away from the table.

"Are you coming back?" Bruce turned to glance at the boy, his expression neutral – _always neutral, _Dick thought. He picked at the threads in the napkin. "I mean… before bedtime?"

"Yours or mine?" Bruce asked wryly and though he didn't smile, Dick did – just a little. "When do you usually go to sleep?"

Dick tilted his head and shrugged, leaving the napkin to rub his fingers over the cold glass of milk instead. "Ten." One eyebrow raise from Mr. Wayne was enough to change his answer. "Okay, _nine_."

"Eight thirty and no, I won't be back before then."

Richard's expression wilted, but within moments it was back to hopeful. "Can you say goodnight to me now, then?"

Bruce didn't show it, but he was confused. "Goodnight?" His word held an unusual questioning tone to it. Dick laughed.

"No, you have to tuck me in!" After the words left his mouth, his face turned red and he began to sputter. "I- I mean, you have to come up with me to… to make sure I'm al – comfortable."

He understood the reason for this want. In fact, he understood it all too well. How many times had he wished for Alfred to tuck him in, even when a year without his parents had passed? Often times he would never ask for Alfred to follow him upstairs just to make sure he was "comfortable," but Bruce was already gathering just how differing this Richard was from him and the last thing he wanted was to have the child feel alienated. He wanted to _better _the kid, that's why he had decided to take him in.

Then again… maybe Alfred was right; maybe he was in _way _over his head.

Still…

Bruce sighed inwardly. "Are you finished eating?" Dick shoved two big forkfuls of potatoes into his mouth and, with bloated cheeks, nodded rapidly. He chugged down his milk, wiped his mouth, and then jumped off the chair to follow Bruce up the stairs. As they passed Alfred, Bruce heard Richard say a quiet 'thank you' to the older man. A slight smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

When they reached the door to Dick's new room, Bruce noted the hesitance in the child's steps. Richard took two strides forward before checking over his shoulder. Four more steps and he glanced back again, checking to make sure Mr. Wayne was still there. Bruce stood in the doorway awkwardly, trying not to make his observing expression too obvious.

It was then that Bruce noticed the picture frames. The three happy Grayson's in the distant photo briefly reminded him of his own childhood. The happy memories of those days seemed so vague and long ago, repressed until they seemed like flickers through a foggy window. Had they really happened? Had he been happy once? Bruce wasn't quite sure anymore, or maybe it was just too painful to remember. Glancing at the black-haired boy before him, who was unembarrassed while changing into his pajamas, Bruce silently promised both himself and Richard that he would do everything he could to make sure the boy didn't shed the memories that he should now cherish. Not like Bruce did.

Richard caught the eye of the tall man after dropping his clothes onto his suitcase in the corner. He pulled his toothbrush out of his bag and took a step forward, watching the man in a manner that resembled the way Bruce was watching him.

"I'm going to brush my teeth. You're going to wait here, right?"

Bruce ventured into the usually empty room while Richard bounded off to the bathroom. He lingered by the dresser, eyeing the pictures more closely, and then over by the bed, shoving his hands into his pockets after peering down at his watch. It had been about five minutes before the small figure reentered the room, using his pajama sleeve to wipe the toothpaste off his mouth. He smiled attentively at Bruce in the slowly darkening room.

Dick jumped onto the mattress and pulled the sheets over him, reveling in the softness beneath him. He slid down as far as he could while still keeping his head on the fluffy pillow. Bruce stood, unsure of what exactly he was _supposed _to do.

"It's still early. I don't expect you to fall asleep right away, so if you do get up, just remember to be back in bed by 9."

Dick nodded.

"And if you go exploring the manor, remember what I said –"

"Don't break anything, office off limits – I got it."

Bruce's lips twitched. "Good. If you need anything, Alfred's down the hall."

"And where will you be?"

Bruce's eyes met the innocent Blue ones the peered up at him. It was a normal question, but he detected an undertone, perhaps one of suspicion? He kept his face blank.

"I have some important work to attend to." The look on Dick's face was one of confusion, but he said nothing in return. "Goodnight, Richard."

"Night."

Bruce turned and headed silently towards the door, ready to pull it shut as he slipped through. A soft voice, however, made him pause.

"Hey… Bruce?" Richard asked tentatively. When he saw that he had the man's attention, he went on. "Thank you."

Bruce wanted to tell the boy that he didn't need to be thanked, that he wanted to help him, to give him a better life now that he was without the two most important people in his life. He wanted to tell him how alike they were; he felt like he was looking into a mirror when he looked at Dick Grayson. Those words never left his lips, though. Instead, two little words were said instead.

"You're welcome."


End file.
